Home Automation Protocols

That garage door hasn’t opened all the way in months. You yank it up, duck under the jumble of extension cords and old paint cans, and step into chaos.

Your garage door opens. And you flinch. That pile of old paint cans, the broken lawnmower, the boxes labeled “misc” from 2017 (it’s) not a space.

I open my garage door and immediately take a step back. That pile of stuff hasn’t moved in three years. You know the one.

You’ve stared at Wutawhacks for ten minutes. And still don’t know where to start. It looks solid. Maybe even life-changing.

You’re standing in your living room right now. Staring at the walls. Wondering if it’s the paint. Or the lighting. Or the way the couch blocks the doorway.

You’re standing in your garden right now. Not sure what to do with it inside. That lush green in May feels impossible to echo on your sofa.

I know that feeling. You walk into your living room and think: This isn’t me anymore.

You’ve stood in your front yard and sighed. That patch of dirt. The tired shrubs. The front door that looks like it’s seen better decades.

You’ve seen it before. A bench sitting there like furniture waiting for permission to matter. It holds weight. It holds people.

You’ve stood in your backyard and felt nothing. No pull. No calm. Just a collection of stuff that doesn’t belong together.